


Fulmineous

by DT Maxwell (Draya)



Series: Whiskey & Arcanima [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (kinda), Carbuncle Shenanigans, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Crack, Mad Science, Matchmaking, Multiple Warriors of Light, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draya/pseuds/DT%20Maxwell
Summary: The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have only been in Ishgard a short time when one of their resident Warriors of Light... relaxes a little. To the confusion of some of their hosts.(Or, In Which Synnove Is a Mad Scientist At Heart, Synnove's Carbuncles Are Disarmingly Adorable, and Rereha Plots Matchmaking)





	Fulmineous

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my [tumblr](dragons-bones.tumblr.com) May 12, 2017.

Honestly, having access to a quiet research space and a proper slate chalkboard (courtesy of Count Fortemps after an off-hand comment made one day) had done wonders for Synnove’s disposition since they had been admitted into Ishgard. Of course, she probably wouldn’t be truly content until she had her office in Limsa Lominsa back with its complicated system of ladders and bookshelves and nesting chalkboards, but she wasn’t trying to climb the walls like she had back in Camp Dragonhead because the numbers in her mind wouldn’t leave her alone. She had promptly ensconced herself in the small library close to the rooms given to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and spent most of her free time there.

Rereha forgot that none currently present save herself, Heron, and Alakhai had ever experienced Synnove Greywolfe deep in the throes of a theoretical arcanima research bender.

Imagine, if you will, a surprisingly peaceful afternoon in the Fortemps Manor, more specifically within the main parlor. In one corner, Heron and Alakhai were quietly playing chess. On the divan next to them was Rereha, sipping tea and enjoying a truly horrific example of Ishgardian romantic literature. And sitting in armchairs in a rough circle in the center of the room, in a lively discussion of Ishgardian and general Eorzean politics, were Alphinaud, Lord Artoirel, Count Edmont, and a newly-arrived Ser Aymeric.

(Rereha couldn’t help but notice the slight disappointment on the Lord Commander’s face when he had noticed Synnove wasn’t present, and smiled smugly behind her book. Heron with her ridiculously long Roegadyn legs had kicked at Rereha’s divan in warning. Rereha ignored her. Alakhai’s eyeroll at the two of them was practically audible.)

A picturesque scene, to be sure.

That was about when a loud, high-pitched _cackle_ of unabashed mad _**GLEE**_ echoed throughout the manor, accompanied by a booming peal of thunder.

The skies outside, it should be noted, were perfectly clear.

Conversation stopped.

After a three heartbeats of perturbed silence, Alphinaud said, “What was _that?_ ”

Alakhai moved a knight across the board. Heron steepled her fingers as she stared at the new pattern before her. Neither paid him any attention.

“Sounded like Synnove finally made a breakthrough on that theorem she’s been working on,” Rereha said as she turned the page of her novel. Lady Aufrine had just slipped away from her chaperone to meet with Lord Carrilaut and it looked like things were finally about to turn properly smutty.

(Out of the corner of her eye, Rereha saw Tyr walk past the parlor entrance, an empty basket held carefully in the enormous topaz carbuncle’s mouth, on his way to the kitchens. Galette bounded after him.)

There was another moment of silence, and Rereha finally dragged her eyes up to meet the befuddled stares of four elezen. “All right,” she said, “three of you I can understand not comprehending the all-encompassing mania particular to academics, but Alphinaud, bunny,” and here she pointedly ignored his indignant sputtering over the hated nickname, “really, you’re _Sharlayan._ You attended the Studium. You can’t tell me you’ve _never_ encountered research-induced insanity in your life.”

Alphinaud’s shoulders curled up defensively. “I perhaps assumed from her usually composed demeanor and proclivity to being the voice of reason that Synnove wasn’t given to such extremes,” he muttered.

Alakhai snorted, loudly. Heron wheezed and slid half out of her chair as she tried not to laugh uproariously, causing four sets of eyes to swing her way before back to Rereha.

Rereha was incredulous. “Alphinaud, did you never visit the lunatic asylum that’s Mealvaan’s Gate? The Arcanist’s Guild is full of mad scientists who just happen to also have a head for logistics and legalese. Last I knew, Synnove was still in an academic bloodfeud with a professor from Radz-at-Han over…” she paused for a few moments, then sighed heavily. “I can’t even remember.”

“Aetheromagnetism, specifically aetherodynamics and quantum aetherodynamics, as it relates to gemstone infusion and carbuncle manifestation,” Alakhai said, poking Heron with her foot to try and get her to pay attention to their chess game again.

Alphinaud’s eyes popped open and he squeaked excitedly before hurriedly recomposing himself after the three Ishgardian nobles glanced at him in amusement. No doubt he would be ambushing Synnove later to pick her brain on the topic.

“That’s it, yes, thank you,” Rereha said. “He didn’t cite her paper as a source despite quoting wholesale from it and then drew apparently completely wrong conclusions, and now she’s determined to have his head on a pike.” She tilted her head thoughtfully and added, completely serious, “Probably literally.”

Heron was sent into a fresh round of snickering, joined by Alakhai, as Alphinaud looked horrified - though more at the mention of stolen research and plagiarism. Rereha was willing to bet that fistfights over academic integrity probably hadn’t only ever occurred in the Arcanist’s Guild.

“How isn’t he dead already?” he said.

Nope, definitely not.

“Wasn’t brave enough to show his face at the last arcanima conference Limsa Lominsa hosted,” Rereha said, finally setting her book aside. “Synnove glared murder at the Hannish delegation the entire time, I thought they’d drop dead from fright.” She grinned at the memory before directing her attention to the Ishgardians. “I’m going to assume that actual blood isn’t drawn on a regular basis at the Scholasticate?”

Count Edmont and Lord Artoirel were exchanging looks, but it was Ser Aymeric who said with wry amusement, “No, the students there tend to limit themselves to metaphorical backstabbing: political subterfuge, vicious rumormongering, accusations of heresy, and so on.”

(Inwardly, Rereha continued to plot. Sass. Sass was good; Synnove liked sass, and gave as good as she got. Also, Ser Aymeric wasn’t seemingly off put by mentions of Synnove’s temper, although he hadn’t yet experienced Synnove in a full fury. Still, that boded well, and Rereha tallied it into her mental “pro” category.)

Outwardly, Rereha was pained. “The worst of Ul’dah and none of the fun,” she said under her breath.

“Should we be concerned about Synnove’s activities?” Count Edmont said.

“No.” It was Heron who said this as she got herself back under control and hauled herself back upright in her chair. “Most of Synnove’s research tends to be purely theoretical or mathematical in nature. If she wants to implement something, she either does so in the field or in one of the guild’s warded and reinforced laboratories, and she doesn’t have that here. Honestly, most of her mania can be attributed to too much coffee, not enough sleep, and genuine excitement over finally solving a difficult theorem. Just make sure she has food and a couch to collapse on and she’ll be fine.”

Cound Edmont appeared mollified, and a bit approving, likely regarding Synnove retaining enough sense to avoid recklessness spellcasting. Ser Aymeric looked positively charmed.

(Rereha mentally rubbed her hands together.)

“And that thunderclap?” Lord Artoirel said.

The three friends all hesitated, looked at each other, and shrugged.

“No idea,” Alakhai said.

“It always seems to happen when she comes across a particularly genius solution,” Heron said.

“We’ve stopped trying to figure it out, less headaches that way,” Rereha said.

At that moment, Tyr walked by the parlor again, catching everyone’s attention, but this time the basket he was carrying was laden with pastries both savory and sweet, each individually wrapped in a napkin, and a large flask of what was likely Ishgardian tea. He passed without deviating from his course, obviously intent on delivering sustenance and caffeine to Synnove, but Galette, trotting after him, stopped and faced the group, making a strange trilling-meow sound as hello. The emerald carbuncle's mouth was covered in flaky pie crust and her muzzle completely stained with rolanberry juice.

Ser Aymeric visibly melted at the sight.

Rereha started plotting furiously.

“Although,” Alakhai said slowly as she stared speculatively at the living construct, “it might be the carbuncles. They’re quite in tune with Synnove and certainly have a… flare for the dramatic.”

Galette chirruped, looking oddly smug, and turned to bound back after Tyr.

**Author's Note:**

> My very first FFXIV fic. I was still getting a feel for the characters and their voices went I wrote this, so I don't consider this my best work, but as far as first fandom fics go, I don't consider it half bad.


End file.
